“Let us exeunt, OP.”
Although I could not understand his phrases, I knew very well what he meant, and pulling smartly, I shoved towards the shore, and ahead. Perceiving this, the men in the boat, at the intimation of the women, who stood up waving their bonnets, gave chase to us, and my companion appeared not a little alarmed. However, by great exertion on my part, we gained considerably, and they abandoned the pursuit.
“Now, by two-headed Janus,” said my companion, as he looked back upon the colliers—
“Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time,
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes,
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper,
And others of such a vinegar aspect
That they’ll not show their teeth by way of smile,
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
“And now,” continued he, addressing me, “what’s your name, sir? Of what condition are you—and of what place, I pray?”
Amused with what had passed, I replied, “That my name was Jacob—that I was a waterman, and born on the river.”
“I find thee apt; but tell me, art thou perfect that our ship hath touched upon the deserts of Bohemia?”
“Do you land at Westminster, sir?”
“No: at Blackfriars—there attend my coming.
“Base is the slave who pays; nevertheless, what is your fare, my lad?